


stupid goddamn conformist festivals

by Little Keplerette (classycloudcuckoolanderclasso)



Series: South Park Drabble Bomb July 2017: Summer Adventures [5]
Category: South Park
Genre: Gen, South Park Drabble Bomb
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-27
Updated: 2017-07-27
Packaged: 2018-12-07 18:01:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11628927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/classycloudcuckoolanderclasso/pseuds/Little%20Keplerette
Summary: It was just another stupid conformist festival the adults of South Park had instated to get everyone out of their houses and ‘having fun’. So why was he nearing the peak of a rollercoaster gripping Karen McCormick’s hand for dear life?





	stupid goddamn conformist festivals

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Festival - Festivals are an essential part of life that everyone should experience at least once or twice. The kind of festivals held all over the country are beautifully varied and fun. Traditional festivals like art shows, ceremonies, and cook-offs are lovely, but so are the ones full of carnival rides, food trucks and games. Is your muse determined to win that big prize for their crush? Are they participating in a competition that they want to show off? What kind of specialty has your character created to share with the town? Nearly every town holds at least one festival in the summer months. What kind of festival has South Park thought up this time?

“No.”

“Hear me out.”

“Absolutely not.”

“It’s just a  _daaaaaaaay,_ Irkle Firkle.”

“I will set your stupid floppy egg head on fire if you call me ‘Irkle Firkle’ one more time, Broflovski,” Firkle warns, but to the green eyed freckled Canadian boy it’s an empty threat more than anything, so there is no fear in his eyes as he drapes an arm over his Goth best friend’s shoulder (even if he denies being best friends with  _this disgusting egg headed immigrant who can’t even keep his goddamn trash can mouth closed long enough to prevent birds from flying into it_ ), waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

“C’mooon. Do it for me.”

As he predicted, Firkle bats him away with the practiced motions of an exasperated man. “You know that the only thing I’ll ever do for you is murder someone, and that’s only because I owe you a favor that I can’t seem to goddamn repay.”

“Oh, you’ve repaid me plenty of times,” Ike smiles cattily. “It’s just that every time you think you’re finally off scot-free, you start owing me again.”

“Unfortunately,” is Firkle’s grumbled response, and the Canadian opens his mouth. “Isaac Broflovski, I am  _not_ going to the Festival of the Hoohas or Whatevers with you conformists.”

Ike sighs, but he’s still smiling. He has two trump cards. “Come oooon. Do it for Karen.”

“... Nice try,” Firkle’s voice is strong, but, having been one of three best friends to the violet eyed boy for so long, Ike was able to notice the waver in his resolve.  _An opening._ “Karen will enjoy the festival just fine without me. You and I both know this.”

“Sure,” Ike agrees. “But she’d enjoy it even more if you came along, right?”

“Whatever.”

“How conformist of a reply for you,” Ike teases. He gets a pillow to the face, and he cackles before pulling out his final trump card. “Speaking of conformist... I hear the other three Goths aren’t going.”

“So?” Firkle stares at him like he’s grown another head. “We’re not conformists. We’re not doing whatever lackadaisical thing the damn town has set up this year when it’s the same every year - something boring and quite frankly disgusting.”

The smile on Ike’s face is unsettling. “So all four of you aren’t going.”

“Yes?”

“That means...” Ike gasps dramatically, flopping down on Firkle’s lap with the back of a hand to his forehead. “Oh, noooo, dear Firkle, you’re... you’re  _conforming_ to them! You’re a conformist!”

Firkle’s eye twitches. Ike can’t help the victorious smirk on his face.

_Bingo._

* * *

“I can’t believe you came!” Karen squeaks, and it’s a wonder Firkle’s arm hasn’t fallen off yet, what with the way the brunette had been excitedly jumping up and down while clinging to his arm, as if she couldn’t believe it was really him.

He can’t hurt her, so he firmly but gently pushes her hands off his arm. “I’m being nonconformist right now, that’s the only reason.”

“How is this-” Ruby gestures to the whole setup. “-being nonconformist? This, one of the most conformist setups in the whole world?”

Firkle scowls. “Go ask your boyfriend, then.”

“Ike,” Ruby immediately addresses, which makes Ike freeze. Firkle can barely hold back a smirk at the deer-in-headlights look the Canadian has, because the guy’s had a disgusting crush on the redheaded Tucker daughter since third grade and any acknowledgment in the romantic sense had him frozen in place.  _Revenge, fucker._ “Firkle won’t tell me how this is nonconformist. Since I’m assuming he’s referring to you, explain this for me.”

Ike stumbles through the words of the explanation - horribly. It makes Firkle actually crack a genuine smile for once, and this smile catches Karen’s eye. She turns to look at him, like really  _look_ at him, and, upon feeling her gaze, he glances at her. Karen’s smile is nothing but sweet and sunshiney - so pure, so innocent, that it makes the corners of Firkle’s mouth twitch upward ever so slightly.

It’s an awkward smile, but Karen’s willing to take it.

Ruby’s not impressed by Ike’s explanation, evidently, because she turns Firkle around to face her again. “That was the dumbest explanation you ever had Ike explain for you.”

“Hey, it’s not his fault...” Karen tries. “I mean, by all means, it’s technically being nonconformist.”

Ruby pats Karen’s cheek. “If that applied to everything, that means I’m a nonconformist too. Don’t worry, Karen - we’ll get this boy admitting he’s conforming to us soon.”

“I will fucking stab you and leave you to die for the birds to feed on your carcass.”

“Do you  _really_ want my big brother coming after you, Firkle?”

Ike, Karen, and Firkle all envision Craig, in all his Super Craig glory. They envision the lightning sparks crackling from his eyes, and, simultaneously, they all seem to shudder. Even Firkle.

“... No.”

Ruby smiles. Slightly. “I’m glad we understand each other. Now, where do we go first?”

“I’d love the merry go round!” Karen smiles.

Ike yawns. “Booooring. Let’s go rollercoaster. They don’t have the rollercoaster every year, so this is gonna be great!”

“I want no part in this,” Firkle grumbles. “I’ll be in the smoking area if anyone needs me.”

Ike pulls on his fringe, making him yelp. “You’re coming with us, you flavored lipgloss wearing loser. Ruby’ll throttle you if you go anywhere else.”

“I won’t throttle him,” Ruby says matter-of-factly. “I’ll choke him with sparkly pink glitter and have him buried in a pretty pink casket decorated with flowers and ponies, after which I’ll find some random old man on the street and take him to where you’re buried. The old fart will then dance on your grave.”

Silence.

“That is oddly specific,” Firkle ends up saying, after some time.

“I’ve had some time to think creatively.”

“Well, either way,” Karen smiles. “Where are we going? I’m fine with anything.”

“Rollercoaster,” Ike declares.

“Ferris wheel,” Ruby says afterwards.

“Okay, Ferris wheel it is, then!” Ike amends immediately after.

Firkle palms his face in evident frustration. “No. No way. I’m fucking leaving. I’m not going on the Ferris wheel with you dumb fucks.”

“Then...” Karen looks down shyly, scuffing her heel on the ground. Firkle turns to look at her. “... If you don’t want to accompany those two to the Ferris wheel, then do you want to, um, accompany me, maybe?”

Firkle looks at her, then at Ike and Ruby.

He takes the saner option immediately.

* * *

It was just another stupid conformist festival the adults of South Park had instated to get everyone out of their houses and ‘having fun’.

So why was he nearing the peak of a rollercoaster gripping Karen McCormick’s hand for dear life? 

Oh, right. He didn’t want to be stuck thirdwheeling Ike Broflovski and Ruby Tucker.

“You ready, Firkle?” Karen ask-yells at him, and he can tell she’s terrified, but also excited to be on the rollercoaster - her eyes were way too expressive for her own good.

Firkle, despite himself, shakes his head vigorously. No, he is not fucking prepared for this. If Ike had been here he’d definitely say yes, he’s not scared of some dumb rollercoaster, but it was Karen here with him now. Karen, who never judged anyone for anything. Karen, one of the nicest people in South Park next to Nichole Daniels.

Karen, who was one of three people whose smile turned Firkle’s insides into mush.

(The other two were probably in the Ferris wheel together. Fucking losers.)

The rollercoaster dips down. Both of them screech.

* * *

“You look like hell,” Ruby says as Karen and Firkle shakily exit the rollercoaster area. She’s holding a cotton candy stick in both hands, and as they near her and Ike, she hands Firkle one, and Karen the other, before taking hers from Ike.

Karen’s knees are knocking together as she collapses on the nearest bench, cotton candy stick quivering in her grip. “That was fun! Scary, but fun!”

“It was the fucking worst,” Firkle growls, angrily tearing at his cotton candy, before pausing at its sweetness.

“So, how was the Ferris wheel?” Karen asks them, and surprisingly enough, Ruby’s cheeks actually tint pink while Ike starts sporting his dumb Cheshire Cat Canadian grin. This makes both Karen and Firkle stare at them, quietly demanding answers.

Ike shushes them. “Secret, secret. Not telling you both anything.”

“You’re terrible, Ike!” Karen whines before taking Firkle by the sleeve. “C’mon, Firkle, let’s go to the stands and win some stuffies. Maybe we’ll find something Goth for you to take home today!”

“That is downright impossible,” Firkle tries to argue, but by this point, Karen is already halfway towards them - and him along with her.

Once they are a good few feet away, Ruby turns to Ike. “You played it up too much. Now the rumors are going to start flying.”

“It’s South Park. Bound to happen eventually,” Ike stretches and eats his corndog thoughtfully. “‘Sides, it’s fun messing with those two. ‘Specially Firkle, since he thinks I’m the biggest dumbass this side of South Park.”

“Well, you are.”

“No, that title is reserved for Filmore.”

Ruby opens her mouth, and closes it. “Fair point.” Beat. “Still, you could’ve been a lot less subtle about the implications.”

“Well, I mean... all I did was tell you I liked you and kissed you on the cheek at the peak of the Ferris wheel before you attacked my face,” Ike mentions, almost smugly. “It’s not my fault they thought something else happened.”

He hated to admit it, but the look on Ruby’s face was something he’d relish for quite a long time.


End file.
